


New Addition

by ghost_writer26 (kinksock22)



Series: Curse [6]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alpha Dean, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha/Omega, Alternate Universe, Established Relationship, Knotting, Light Angst, M/M, Mating, Mention of Heat, Mpreg, Omega Sam, Self-Lubrication, Wincest - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-08
Updated: 2016-03-08
Packaged: 2018-05-25 14:04:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,815
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6197914
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kinksock22/pseuds/ghost_writer26
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam goes into labor.</p>
            </blockquote>





	New Addition

**Author's Note:**

> As we've established, I have never been pregnant or given birth so I’m making shit up as I go. :)
> 
> This is the sixth and final installment of the Curse verse. There is one final timestamp after this. 
> 
> Written on 03/16/14 on livejournal under ghost_writer26. Un-beta'd.

Sam struggles to push himself up and out of the chair, one hand instantly sliding across his very huge, very pregnant belly. His pup is agitated and Sam honestly can’t say he doesn’t feel the same. Idly rubbing his swollen middle, he pads toward the front window, glancing out through the curtains even though he knows he won’t see anything. He’d hear the Impala long before he sees her.  
  
With a sigh, Sam turns and waddles – there really isn’t another word for it – to the kitchen. He’s really not hungry but he still makes a sandwich, just because he knows he should. Dean’ll kick his ass if he finds out that Sam hasn’t been eating all that well the last few days.  
  
Dean’s been gone almost a whole week. It’s not the first time Sam’s been left alone during his pregnancy but he hates it just as much every time. Bobby was hesitant to ask for Dean’s help, knowing that neither of them like him being gone – especially for this long – but it was a tough case and Bobby needed the help. And after all the older hunter had done for them, neither felt right turning him down. It helps Sam relax slightly knowing that Dean is with Bobby, knowing that their pseudo father will do his level best to make sure Dean comes home to them in one piece.  
  
Sam smiles when he hears the patter of feet and looks up just in time to catch a glimpse of dark blonde curls fly past the kitchen door. He wanders in the same direction, his smile growing yet turning sad at the same time as he sees their little girl curling up in the window seat and peering out the same curtains Sam had just been. He loves her more than he ever thought he could love anything, even Dean, has since the day she was born. But, even four years later, it still pisses him off that Dean was right about their first child being a girl.  
  
She’s so lost in concentration, looking for her papa, that she doesn’t hear Sam come up behind her, squeaking in protest when he grabs her around the waist and blows a raspberry on her cheek. Before he hit six months and blew up like a blimp, he would’ve picked her up and plopped her on his hip, now he has to settle for cuddling her against him as best as he can around his eight-month-pregnant belly.  
  
He sits down in the window seat opposite her and grins when wide, round green eyes turn to him, the smattering of freckles across the bridge of her nose darker than usual since it is summertime and she spends as much time outside as she can.  
  
“What’re you doin’, ‘bug?” he asks softly, letting her curl up in what little bit of a lap he has left, twisting awkwardly around her sibling – Sam thinks another girl, Dean says a boy this time – and blinks up at Sam with Dean’s eyes. Dimples – the  _only_  thing she got from Sam – bracket her soft, cupid-bow lips when she smiles and Sam feels a rush of love so deep it leaves him breathless for a moment.  
  
“Watchin’ for Papa,” she giggles, like Sam is the silly one for having to ask.  
  
Sam runs a palm over the headful of curls and presses a kiss to the tip of her nose, making her scrunch it up and giggle again. “Papa’s with Grandpa Bobby, you know that, ladybug. They’re not due back ‘til tomorrow or the next day.”  
  
Mary Elizabeth Winchester grins up at him and shakes her head. “Nuh uh,” she argues playfully. “He’s on his way now.”  
  
Sam tilts his head to the side, his smile dimming a bit. “How’d you know that?”  
  
“’cause I just do,” she answers with a shrug of her tiny shoulders.  
  
It’s always amazed Sam the connection that their daughter and Dean share. It’s nearly almost psychic and has been since pretty much the day she was born. Sam and Lizzie have a different kind of connection but he’s always been a little envious of the one she seems to share with Dean. Sometimes, he wonders if she inherited his psychic thing. But it doesn’t seem to be dreams or visions, like his, more just intuition and it’s mostly just with Dean.  
  
Sure enough, half an hour later, Sam hears the throaty purr of the Impala. Liz is still cuddled up against him in the window seat and she looks up at him, knowing the sound as well as Sam does, and grins even brighter. “Papa!” she damn-near screeches. “Daddy, it’s the ‘pala. Papa!”  
  
Sam nods, an emotion-choked chuckle getting caught in his throat. She doesn’t quite understand why Dean sometimes goes out with Grandpa Bobby and is gone for days at a time but she’s always a trooper through it. But Sam honestly thinks sometimes she gets more excited than even he does when Dean finally gets home, no matter what shape he’s in. She doesn’t know enough to worry about his welfare just that she misses him. Sam envies her that too.  
  
Even though it’s a struggle, he manages to balance her on his hip and awkwardly makes his way out onto their porch just as the Impala pulls up out in front of their house. Dean barely has her in park before he’s shoving the door open, leaving his bags in the backseat for now. Sam’s breath hitches when he sees his brother rushing up the walk, eyes quickly scanning for injury or blood or anything else. But Dean’s fine – at least visibly – and Sam’s shoulders slump, tension draining away from him that’s been building all week.  
  
Dean grins at them – same one as Lizzie gave him a few minutes ago – and pretty much leaps up the short set of steps leading to the porch. He immediately takes Liz from Sam, settling her on his hip with a smacking kiss to her cheek. His free arm reaches out at the same time, blindly pulling Sam against his other side.  
  
“Papa!” Lizzie giggles, pressing messy, wet kisses all over Dean’s face.  
  
“Hey, baby girl,” Dean drawls. “Were you good for Daddy?”  
  
“Uh huh,” she nods, eyes big and round and sincere.  
  
“That’s my good girl,” Dean grins at her before turning to Sam. “And how ‘bout you?” he asks softly, his eyes shining with love. “Were you a good boy?”  
  
“’course,” Sam scoffs.  
  
Dean raises an eyebrow skeptically but they won’t talk about it in front of Lizzie. Instead he leans forward and presses a quick, mostly-chaste kiss to Sam’s lips. “Missed you, baby,” he whispers.  
  
“Me too,” Sam breathes, wrapping his arms around Dean’s neck, Lizzie’s little arms just above his.  
  
“Okay, c’mon, you two,” Dean says after a moment, leading them into the house. “Get ready, we’re havin’ dinner at Grandpa’s tonight.”  
  
Sam follows behind, shutting the door behind himself, one eyebrow raised even though Dean can’t see it. Lizzie’s babbling like she always does when Dean comes home from a hunt, telling him every little detail of her days since he’s been gone. Dean listens raptly even as he takes her to her room to get her ready. Sam leans against the doorframe, one hand rubbing at a cramp in his stomach. Even distracted by their daughter, Dean’s ever-present knowledge of all things Sam means that he catches the movement, the grimace that’s more than likely on Sam’s face.  
  
“What?” Dean asks, glancing at Sam over his shoulder as he blindly puts on Liz’s shoes.  
  
“Nothing,” Sam mutters. “Just a cramp.”  
  
Concern darkens Dean’s eyes and he presses a kiss to the top of Liz’s head. “’mma go help Daddy get ready, ‘kay?”  
  
She pouts slightly but nods, small fingers playing with the hem of the dress Dean put her in. It’s amusing to Sam when Dean dresses her up like that; normally she’s in jeans and a t-shirt, ever their little tom-boy. But there are times when Dean likes to put her in dresses and pull the messy curls of her hair into a ponytail complete with ribbons.  
  
“We’ll be right back, ‘bug,” Dean assures her softly, pressing another kiss to the top of her head. She nods again and climbs down off the bed, busying herself with gathering the things she wants to take to Bobby’s. “C’mon,” Dean says to Sam with a jerk of his chin toward the hallway.  
  
Sam sighs and pushes himself off the doorframe and follows his brother into their room across the hall. They leave the door cracked open so that they can hear if Liz needs them but still maintain some semblance of privacy. Dean’s hands slide over the heavy swell of Sam’s stomach and Sam sighs softly, his eyes sliding closed.  
  
“Are you okay?”  
  
“Yeah,” Sam breathes, reopening his eyes. “Like I said, just a cramp. Are you?”  
  
“’course I am,” Dean drawls with a smirk.  
  
“’m serious, Dean,” Sam huffs.  
  
“So am I, Sam,” Dean replies in the same tone. His eyes soften and so does his tone when he continues. “Seriously. ‘m fine, Sammy.”  
  
“Why’re we goin’ to Bobby’s?”  
  
“’cause he wants to see you two. Says it’s been too long.”  
  
Sam chuckles softly, shaking his head. “We were there the day before you left.”  
  
“I know that,” Dean sighs, shaking his head as well. “You know how Bobby is. He’d have us there twenty-four/seven if he could get away with it.”  
  
“Hmm,” Sam hums. “True.”  
  
“How were things while I was gone? Really?”  
  
“Okay. I… My appetite was a little wonky but I made sure that I ate. She’s been a little upset,” Sam murmurs, his hand sliding over his stomach.  
  
“He’s probably just feeling your stress,” Dean replies easily. “Which is why you shouldn’t be stressed.”  
  
“That’s easy for you to say, Dean,” Sam huffs. “You’re not the one left behind, worrying that…” Sam cuts himself off, his jaw clenching. “Look, ‘m fine. So is she. Let’s just go.”  
  
“Sam…”  
  
“No,” Sam grits out. “’s fine, okay? I don’t… I  _can’t_  fight with you right now, alright? We’ll,” he sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose, “We’ll talk about it later.”  
  
~~~~~~  
  
They’re sitting at the table after dinner, Lizzie curled up against Dean’s chest, sound asleep. Bobby looks across the table and smiles. “Why don’t you boys leave her here tonight? It’s been a while since you’ve had some time to yourselves.”  
  
Dean looks over at Sam, one eyebrow quirked in silent question. Sam just shrugs. Honestly, he’s tired and sore and he’d kind of like having the night – and tomorrow – off. But Liz gets very clingy with Dean when he first gets back from a hunt so Sam’s not entirely sure that she’ll want to stay, even with Bobby.  
  
“I could just take her on upstairs,” Dean says quietly, like he’s reading Sam’s mind. “She’s out of it.”  
  
“And if she wakes up, she’ll throw a fit,” Sam counters.  
  
Dean rolls his eyes but ultimately, he knows Sam’s right so he doesn’t argue. “Lizzie?” he says softly, gently rubbing her back. She smacks her lips in her sleep – just like Dean does – and burrows in closer to his chest. “C’mon, Lizzie-girl. You wanna stay with Grandpa tonight and spend the day hangin’ out with him tomorrow?”  
  
Sleepy, hazy green eyes flutter open and she blinks owlishly up at Dean before glancing over at Sam then at Bobby. Her lips pull down into a pout and she wraps her arms completely around Dean’s neck. “Papa,” she whines.  
  
Dean’s still rubbing her back and presses a kiss to her forehead. “Grandpa wants you to hang out with him, ‘bug. Don’t you wanna?”  
  
Her little brow furrows like she’s thinking really hard about it then she huffs out a sigh and essentially collapses against Dean’s chest again. It makes Sam smile. She’s so overly-dramatic sometimes. “Okay,” she whispers. “But you’ll be back tomorrow?”  
  
“Of course we will,” Dean promises. “Want me to take you up to your room and tuck you in?” She nods where her face is pressed against Dean’s neck. “Okay,” he agrees.  
  
Sam watches his mate and his daughter head upstairs before turning back to Bobby, the small smile curling up his lips falling away when he notices Bobby staring at him. “What?” he frowns.  
  
“You okay, son?” Bobby asks, soft and kind.  
  
“Yeah. Why wouldn’t I be?”  
  
“’cause you hardly touched your supper and you’ve been really quiet. And this ain’t just the ‘Dean’s been gone for a week’ kinda quiet.”  
  
Sometimes, Sam forgets just how well Bobby knows them, knows  _him_. “I’m okay, really. Just… Tired, I guess. Third trimester and all,” he shrugs, sliding one hand across his stomach.  
  
“You’ve still got, what? Nine weeks to go?”  
  
“Eight,” Sam answers absently, his stomach seizing with a sharp cramp. “This pregnancy is the exact opposite of my first,” he continues once the pain in his stomach lets up some. “I was fine ‘til a few weeks ago. Now ‘m tired all the time and sore…” he pauses as another cramp hits, wincing enough that Bobby notices.  
  
“Sam?”  
  
“Cramp,” Sam grits out.  
  
“You sure it's not somethin’ more?”  
  
“Nah,” Sam breathes. “Just… With Dean bein’ gone. I guess I got myself upset. The pup’s just pickin’ up on that.”  
  
“Maybe you should stop in tomorrow and see Amy, just to be sure?” Bobby half-asks.  
  
“I’ll be okay,” Sam dismisses, waving one hand.  
  
“Sam…”  
  
“Seriously,” Sam cuts him off. “’m okay. I appreciate the concern but I’m fine.” Sam tenses when he hears the sound of his brother’s boots as he comes back down the stairs. “Don’t say anything to Dean? Please? He’ll just worry.”  
  
“Maybe he should be,” Bobby mutters, half under his breath. Sam sends him a pleading look, complete with puppy eyes. Bobby sighs and nods. “I don’t like it,” he says just before Dean steps into the room.  
  
“Hey,” Dean says, dropping a kiss to the top of Sam’s head. “She’s out. We’ll be back sometime tomorrow after I get off work, ‘kay?”  
  
“Take your time,” Bobby dismisses. “You know I love havin’ her here. I can continue teachin’ her how to rebuild that old carb out in the shed.”  
  
Sam snorts a laugh and shakes his head. “She’s four.”  
  
“So?” Bobby asks, his eyes twinkling. “Had you out in that garage even younger’n that, boy.”  
  
“She’s a girl.”  
  
“Pfft,” Bobby waves a hand toward Sam. “She’s better’n you ever where, girl or not.”  
  
Dean laughs, wrapping his arms around Sam’s shoulders from behind. “Sammy never did like to play grease monkey, did he?”  
  
“Nah, too busy with his nose buried in all my old books.”  
  
Sam leans back against Dean’s chest, a small smile curling up his lips as he listens to Bobby and Dean reminisce, even if they’re teasing him and their laughter is at his expense. It’s all in good fun and he knows that neither of them means any harm by it.  
  
“C’mon, Sammy,” Dean says softly, his hand squeezing Sam’s shoulder. Sam licks his lips and blinks his eyes open, confused. He must have fallen asleep listening to Dean and Bobby. “Let’s get you home.”  
  
“Could just stay here,” Bobby offers softly. “Kid’s dead on his feet, Dean.”  
  
“’m okay,” Sam insists around a yawn.  
  
“Yeah, and the whole point’a you keepin’ Lizzie is for us to get a break,” Dean teases. “You know if we stay here, Sam won’t stop.”  
  
If Sam wasn’t so damn tired, he’d take offense to them talking about him like he’s not even in the room.  
  
Dean helps him to his feet and out to the car. Sam curls up against the window and closes his eyes again, the familiar comfort of the Impala soothing him back into a light doze as Dean drives the fifteen minutes between their house and Bobby’s.  
  
Sam’s mostly asleep as Dean gets him out of the car and into the house. He sighs softly when Dean leads them straight to their bedroom and gently pushes Sam down onto the mattress. Sam blinks owlishly as Dean drops to his knees and takes off his shoes and socks, his fingers warm and calloused and familiar against Sam’s skin.  
  
“Dean,” he breathes, one hand slowly coming up, palming the back of Dean’s head.  
  
“Shh,” Dean soothes softly. “Lay back for me, baby.”  
  
Sam hums in agreement and falls back against the mattress, awkwardly scooting up toward the pillows. He watches through mostly closed eyes as Dean strips him down to just his boxers and a t-shirt before sheading his own clothes and crawling up onto the mattress beside him. Sam tries to turn toward Dean but his belly won’t let him – one of the reasons he hates lying on his back. Dean smiles fondly and leans up over him, pressing a quick kiss to his lips. He helps Sam turn over onto his side, but facing away from Dean. Sam frowns, shaking his head. “Dean?” he asks softly.  
  
“Shh,” Dean shushes him again, as he scoots up behind Sam, both arms wrapping around him. Sam sighs and relaxes in his brother’s embrace, content with the contact. “Get some sleep, baby boy.”  
  
Sam turns his head enough to look over his shoulder, one eyebrow raised. “I don’t… You do realize that we have the house completely to ourselves for the first time in  _months_ , right?”  
  
“I do,” Dean agrees and presses a kiss to Sam’s lips. “And I also know that you’re wiped, man.”  
  
“So… Let me get this straight,” Sam says slowly. “Because ‘m a little tired, you don’t wanna have sex?”  
  
“I didn’t say I didn’t wanna,” Dean says softly. “I always wanna. But… You’re tired, Sammy. And I… I heard you talkin’ to Bobby.” Sam tenses, his eyes sliding closed. “Why didn’t you tell me?”  
  
“’cause there’s nothing to tell. ‘m fine. Like I told him, just tired and sore.”  
  
“The cramps…”  
  
“Aren’t anything. ‘m  _fine_. Please, De, seriously.”  
  
“Fine,” Dean agrees with a huff. “But it doesn’t get better in a few days, you’re goin’ to see Amy. Even if I have’ta hogtie you and drag ya there myself.”  
  
~~~~~~  
  
Sam doesn’t remember falling asleep.  
  
But he must’ve because when his eyes open again, the early light of morning is shining in through their bedroom window and Dean is pressing soft, barely-there kisses to the back of his neck. Sam damn-near purrs, tilting his head in silent invitation.  
  
“What were you dreamin’ about?” Dean whispers against his ear, nipping softly at the lobe.  
  
“Hmm,” Sam hums, his eyes sliding closed again, trying to remember what he was dreaming right before he woke up. His cheeks heat slightly when the memory hits him. “You,” he answers evasively.  
  
“What about me?” Dean urges.  
  
“My last heat,” Sam says softly. “When we were trying to get pregnant again. How crazy we were for each other.”  
  
“Always crazy for you,” Dean breathes, his lips sliding over Sam’s neck, the sensitive skin behind his ear. “Heat or not. You always make me fuckin’ crazy.”  
  
“Dean,” Sam breathes, rocking his hips back slightly, gasping at the feeling of Dean’s cock, hard and hot even through the layers of their boxers.  
  
“You were moaning my name in your sleep,” Dean drawls against his pounding pulse, nipping at the edge of his mating scar. “Kept rockin’ your hips back against me. Woke up surrounded by the scent’a you,” he slides one hand down between them, his fingers dipping under the waist of Sam’s underwear, down along the cleft of his ass, “Already so wet, baby. Must’a been a damn good dream.”  
  
“Nothin’ compared to the real thing,” Sam whispers, his eyes sliding closed when the tips of Dean’s fingers gently press against his rim. Sam gasps softly, his hips twitching, wanting to chase the fleeting touch.  
  
“Shh, easy,” Dean murmurs, pressing a little harder but still barely circling the pads of his fingers around the tight furl of muscle. “I gotcha, baby boy.”  
  
“Dean, please,” Sam breathes, his cock hard and aching, his hole leaking and fluttering.  
  
Dean presses another kiss to the back of his neck then removes his hand. Sam whimpers slightly, trying to turn over. Dean places one hand against the small of his back, gentle pressure keeping him where he is. “’m not goin’ anywhere,” Dean promises. “Just need’ta get us naked.”  
  
Sam licks his lips and nods, watching Dean over his shoulder as his brother scoots back enough to strip off his own t-shirt and boxer briefs – his mouth practically watering at the sight of his brother’s thick cock. Dean helps him sit up enough to pull his t-shirt off then shimmies his boxers down and off as well. He sighs softly when Dean presses up against his back again, skin sleep-warm and baby-soft, familiar firm muscle beneath that Sam wants to touch so badly he can practically taste it. But he knows well enough to know that there’s no way Dean will let him turn over and risk hurting him or the baby.  
  
Dean snakes one hand between them again, his fingers once again circling around Sam’s rim. Sam moans softly when he sinks the tip of one into him. Dean bites down on the back of his shoulder, pressing his finger in further, quirking it immediately to brush over Sam’s prostate.  
  
“God,” Dean groans, his cock twitching against the back of Sam’s thigh. “So wet and tight. Fuckin’ perfect.”  
  
Sam squirms his hips back slightly, wanting, needing, more. “C’mon, De,” Sam urges softly. “More, please.” He knows it’s a long shot; they haven’t had sex in more than a week and even though Sam’s used to Dean after all these years and his body is literally made for it and he’s leaking like a busted pipe, Dean won’t rush.  
  
“Easy,” Dean murmurs predictably. “I gotcha. We’ll get there.”  
  
“Need you,” Sam whispers, trailing off on a low moan when Dean pushes a second finger in next to the first.  
  
Dean spends a few, eternity-long minutes prepping him, two then three fingers thrusting in and out, twisting and gently stretching. Sam’s got one hand behind him, gripping Dean’s thigh hard enough that his knuckles are starting to ache and he’s pretty sure he’s leaving behind bruises but he can’t be bothered to care. He needs this so much right now, always tends to get desperate when Dean comes back from a hunt, the need to reconnect overwhelming.  
  
He whimpers softly when Dean pulls his fingers away, hating that empty feeling that comes between Dean’s fingers and his cock. Thankfully, Dean doesn’t waste time, lines up his cock almost immediately and sinks into him like a hot knife through butter.  
  
Sam squeezes his eyes closed, his hand curled into a fist in the sheet beneath him, the urge to cry out almost choking him. They’ve gotten used to having to be quiet since Lizzie was born and even though he knows she’s not here, he’s so used to it, it’s second nature. Like Dean’s reading his mind, his leans in close to Sam, his breath warm and ticklish against his ear when he whispers, “Let go, Sammy. Lemme hear you.” Sam moans harshly, louder than he usually would, when Dean thrusts all the way forward, burying himself to the hilt. “That’s it, little brother,” Dean practically purrs, circling his hips, grinding his cock-head against Sam’s sweet spot. “Love hearin’ you.”  
  
“Dean,” Sam moans again, tilting his head back, exposing his neck. Dean takes the hint, biting down on the crook of his shoulder. “So good. C’mon, fuck me, big brother.”  
  
Dean growls around the skin he still has trapped in his teeth and draws his hips back, snapping them forward as best as he can. Sam doesn’t mind this position much – he got used to it when he was pregnant with Liz – and he enjoys feeling Dean wrapped around him like this, but Dean can’t quite get the strength behind his thrusts like usual, like Sam’s  _craving._  
  
“Dean,” he gasps, one hand grabbing his brother’s hip.  
  
“What? What’s wrong?” Dean asks quickly, concern edging out the lust in his tone.  
  
“Nothin’,” Sam reassures him. “Just… I wanna move. Help me.”  
  
“Move… What?”  
  
“Wanna get on my hands and knees.” Sam can feels his cheeks heating up, that quick shot of embarrassment still present no matter how long they’ve been doing this.  
  
“Sammy…”  
  
“No, it’s okay,” Sam breathes. “We did it like that with Lizzie.”  
  
“Not when you were this far along,” Dean argues.  
  
“We’ll put a pillow under my stomach,” Sam reasons.  
  
Dean sighs softly and pulls his hips back. Sam whimpers at the loss, even though it was his idea. It’s a bit of a struggle getting Sam onto his hands and knees but they manage. Dean dips down and presses a kiss to the small of Sam’s back as he carefully pushes a pillow under the swell of Sam’s stomach. Sam moans when Dean’s lips trail up his spine, all the way up until he reaches the sensitive skin behind Sam’s ear. “You ready?” he asks softly.  
  
“Mmhmm,” Sam hums, his eyes squeezed closed, his fingers already curled into fists in the sweaty bed sheets. Sam cries out when Dean carefully thrusts back inside him. “Oh fuck,” Sam breathes, feels himself getting impossibly wetter.  
  
“Sammy?” Dean croaks out, his voice strained but concerned.  
  
“God, do it,” Sam moans. Dean picks up a slow, tentative rhythm, still obviously worried that he’s somehow hurting Sam. But that couldn’t be further from the truth. Dean feels amazing like this, so deep and huge inside him and Sam rocks back slightly, silently urging him to pick up the pace. Dean’s fingers twitch against his hips and he slows down. Sam throws a look over his shoulder, practically snarling. “Don’t stop. Fuck, Dean, don’t you dare stop.”  
  
Dean’s eyes widen slightly and he nods, picking up the pace again, his cock hitting Sam’s prostate perfectly, the strokes deep and powerful. Sam practically screams, taking a second to think that he’s grateful that Lizzie is with Bobby, before all coherent thought tumbles from his head. All he can focus on is the perfect feeling of Dean inside him, filling him and stretching him, making him tremble in pleasure.  
  
Dean’s thrusts are angled perfectly, hitting all the right places, his slowly swelling knot catching on Sam’s rim on every stroke, that slight bit of burn just upping the pleasure. His arms are trembling and he fights to keep from collapsing down onto his chest, the heavy swell of his stomach against the pillow reminding him that no matter how good this feels, his first priority will always be keeping his child safe.  
  
Dean must feel him trembling and carefully leans over, his hand pressing against Sam’s chest, taking some of his weight. “You okay?” he rasps.  
  
“Y-yeah,” Sam mutters, practically keening when he feels Dean’s knot getting bigger, the swollen flesh naturally slowing down the now almost frantic thrusts.  
  
“’m gonna, baby,” Dean warns, switching to grinding his hips against Sam’s ass.  
  
Sam moans in agreement, his cock jerking and twitching, his hole fluttering around Dean. He’s close, knows that it won’t take much more for him to fall apart completely. Sure enough, when Dean’s knot swells completely, catching and tying them together, the pressure against his prostate and the sensation of Dean filling him up, pushes him almost violently over the edge. He cries out, his untouched cock pulsing as he spills over their bed, the pillow beneath his belly.  
  
Dean moans harshly, his hips jerking in tiny little thrusts as the first wave of his orgasm washes through him as well. His arm tightens around Sam’s chest and he presses a kiss to the back of Sam’s neck. “I love you,” Dean breathes, nosing through his sweat-damp hair.  
  
Sam hums contently and leans his head back a bit, turning enough to slide their lips together in a slightly off-center kiss. “Love you, too,” he whispers.  
  
Dean slowly removes the pillow from beneath Sam and gently turns them on their sides. It’s as awkward as it was getting up into position to begin with and the movement tugs on Dean’s knot, making them both hiss softly. Once Dean finally gets them settled, his arms wrapped completely around Sam again, he nuzzles at the back of Sam’s neck. “Are you okay?”  
  
Sam smiles and fondly rolls his eyes, even though Dean can’t see him. “Yeah,” he says softly. “’m good.”  
  
~~~~~~  
  
Sam stops on his way to the living room, one hand sliding down over his stomach, frowning slightly at how hard and tense it feels. A sudden, sharp cramp hits and Sam gasps, his knees buckling. He hits the floor with a dull thud, the pain in his knees not even registering over the pain in his stomach. His first thought – and natural instinct – is to call out for Dean and he opens his mouth to do so before remembering that his brother already left for work hours ago.  
  
Inhaling deeply, Sam forces himself to crawl the rest of the way toward the living room, knocking everything off the table in his attempt to grab his phone. Another pain stabs through him and Sam cries out, collapsing on his side. Deep down, he knows he needs help, that he needs to call Dean, but the pain is so severe, he can’t focus, can’t think. Another cramp seizes him and Sam screams, curling around his stomach as best as he can.  
  
He fades in and out of consciousness, everything blurry and hazy, like a dream. There are sounds around him, a voice he thinks, frantic but muffled, like he’s underwater. He tries to respond to that voice, at least he thinks he does, opens his mouth but nothing comes out. In the back of his mind, he latches onto the sound of that voice, knows that it means love and safety but he’s too out of it to really understand what he’s feeling.  
  
When he opens his eyes again, he’s lying on a bed and there’s something sticking in the crook of his elbow and there’s an annoying beeping noise coming from somewhere above him. He licks his lips and forces his hazy vision to clear, to take in the too-white walls and the sharp scent of bleach and antiseptic. He wrinkles his nose and turns his head, his eyes sliding closed again.  
  
To his left, he smells leather and coffee and a familiar musky, woodsy scent. He smiles and forces his eyes back open, frowning slightly in confusion at Dean. His brother looks terrible, his eyes red-rimmed and glassy, his skin paler than usual, making his freckles stand out and his plump lips are pulled into a thin line.  
  
“De?” Sam rasps.  
  
“Shh,” Dean soothes, leaning forward so that his arms are braced on the bed next to Sam. “You need to rest.”  
  
“Wha-?”  
  
“I don’t know, Sammy,” Dean sighs. “I… I was at work and something felt… off. I came home and found you in the living room, passed out with the phone in your hand.”  
  
“Baby?”  
  
“Amy’s been in to take some blood and she examined you. But she hasn’t been back since. I don’t know what’s goin’ on.” Dean pauses, licks his lips and rubs one hand over the back of his neck. “Why the hell didn’t you tell me it was this bad?” he asks tensely. “If I hadn’t gotten back from the hunt early…” he trails off, his jaw clenching.  
  
“What,” Sam stops, clears his throat and struggles to sit up, “What was I supposed to do?” Sam asks hoarsely. “Call you in the middle of a damn hunt? I was fine, Dean. Just some cramps.”  
  
“Obviously it’s not ‘just’ some cramps,” Dean snaps. “And, yes, that’s exactly what you should’ve done. Or hell, I don’t know. How ‘bout you could’a told me last night or this morning…” Dean trails off again, his eyes widening and Sam knows what’s coming before Dean even opens his mouth. “This morning,” he repeats slowly. “Did I…”  
  
“No,” Sam cuts him off, shaking his head.  
  
“How d’you know?”  
  
Sam rolls his eyes and shoots his brother a dirty look. “’cause I fuckin’ know, alright. And this… It was happenin’ before that.”  
  
“Damnit, Sam,” Dean growls.  
  
“Hey,” Amy says sharply as she enters the room. “No stressing out my patient or I’ll kick your ass outta here so fast your head’ll spin.” Sam grins triumphantly at his brother and sticks his tongue out. “And you,” Amy whirls on him, one finger pointed at him. “I understand why you didn’t call Dean but you damn-well should’ve called me.”  
  
“What… What’s wrong?”  
  
“I’ll save us all the trouble of understanding the big words and the medical jargon by just saying, long story short, you’re in labor, kiddo. Have been since sometime yesterday, I’d say.”  
  
“But I… I’m early. And this doesn’t feel like my labor with Lizzie.”  
  
“Different pregnancies, different labors,” Amy answers with a shrug. “How long have you been cramping?”  
  
“Three days,” Sam mutters. “At first, it wasn’t bad.”  
  
“But yesterday, it got bad?” Amy half-asks. Sam sighs softly and nods. “Well, either way, you’re in active labor at this point. We can try to stop it but honestly? You’re too far gone, I really doubt it’ll work.”  
  
“Will it be okay? Goin’ this early?”  
  
“Thirty-two weeks isn’t ideal but it’s not impossible either,” Amy pauses, heaving a sigh, “Next problem is, the baby’s not in the right position.”  
  
“Still feet down?” Sam cringes.  
  
“Actually, butt down. We can wait a bit and see if he turns on his own or I can turn him, which will _not_  be pleasant. C-section is always an option as well.” Her features soften a bit and she places one hand one Sam’s leg, rubbing gently. “We’ve got a bit of time still, hopefully he’ll turn on his own.”  
  
“Okay,” Sam agrees, completely overwhelmed.  
  
She smiles softly and pats his leg again. “Rest up some. The more relaxed you are, the better,” she turns to Dean and points one finger at him, “I mean it. No fighting. Either you help or you’re out.”  
  
Dean’s eyes widen and he watches her go warily. He sighs when he glances back at Sam, leaning over to press a kiss to the side of his lips. “’m sorry, baby,” he says softly. “I just… When I came home and saw you like that…”  
  
“I know, De,” Sam interrupts softly. “’m sorry I didn’t tell you. I… I didn’t think it was anything.”  
  
“Guess I should go call Bobby, huh?” Dean asks.  
  
“No need.” They both look toward the door, identical frowns on their faces when they see Bobby hovering in the doorway.  
  
“What’re you doin’ here?” Sam asks.  
  
“Lizzie went nuts ‘bout an hour ago,” Bobby says gruffly, entering the room fully. He stops next to Dean and smiles sadly. “Couldn’t get her to tell me anything at first. All she’d do is scream ‘Daddy’. Then ‘bout ten minutes ago, she calmed down enough to tell me that we needed to get to Daddy. I called the house, both of your phones and the garage. This was my last option.”  
  
“Where is she?” Dean asks and Sam’s thankful that his brother has enough sense to ask about their daughter. Right now, Sam doesn’t think he can handle anything else and this is bordering on too much.  
  
“Amy saw us comin’ in and intercepted. Promised the kid a sucker,” Bobby shrugs. “She agreed but only for a minute and then she wants to come see you and make sure you’re okay.”  
  
Before anyone can say anything else, Amy steps back into the room with Liz perched on her hip, eating a red sucker. Lizzie smiles when she sees Dean, holding her arms out. Dean gets up and easily takes her, balancing her on his hip before turning back toward the bed. Lizzie’s green eyes latch onto Sam, intense in a way no four year old should ever look for a brief moment. Then tears fill those emerald depths and her lips quiver as she whimpers, “Daddy.”  
  
“Shh, ‘bug,” Dean coos, gently rubbing her back. “Daddy’s fine. See? He’s just gettin’ ready to have your little brother.”  
  
“Or sister,” Sam automatically corrects, sharing a soft, private smile with Dean over their daughter’s head.  
  
“Daddy,” Lizzie repeats, squirming in Dean’s arms, trying to get to Sam.  
  
“I’ll let you sit on Daddy’s bed,” Dean says, soft but stern, “But you gotta be careful, okay?”  
  
Lizzie’s eyes go wide and she nods. “I promise.”  
  
Dean sets her down on the bed and Lizzie leans over, pressing a quick kiss to Sam’s belly before carefully crawling up the mattress to curl up against his chest. Sam wraps both arms around his little girl, mindful of the IV and presses a kiss to the top of her head.  
  
“’m okay, ladybug,” he says softly.  
  
Lizzie pulls her head back enough to look up at him and sniffles. “Promise?” she whispers.  
  
“Yes, baby girl, I promise.”  
  
“The baby made you sick?” she half-asks, playing idly with the neck of Sam’s hospital gown.  
  
“No, not really,” he says carefully. “It’s just time for the baby to come out.”  
  
She frowns, her little brow furrowed and her bottom lip tucked between her teeth. She looks so much like Dean that it makes Sam smile. “He’ll be here soon,” she murmurs, not really a question.  
  
“Yeah, probably,” Sam answers anyway.  
  
Lizzie sighs and tucks her head under Sam’s chin. “I love you, Daddy,” she says softly.  
  
Tears well up in Sam’s eyes and he buries his face in her soft, messy curls. “I love you, too, Lizzie.” Sam tenses when a cramp hits and he looks up at Dean, eyes wide with panic. “Take her,” he whispers frantically.  
  
Dean frowns in confusion but does as Sam asks, gently picking Lizzie up despite her protests. “Shh, sweetheart,” Dean soothes. “Daddy needs to rest. Why don’t you go with Grandpa and pick out a present for the baby?”  
  
Normally, Lizzie is a good kid, happy and easy-going. But at the mention of leaving, she throws a fit, clinging to Dean’s neck, tears streaming down her rounded cheeks as she cries and yells for her daddy. It breaks Sam’s heart but he’s too focused on the fact that it feels like his whole body is being torn in two. The heart monitor over Sam’s head blares out an alarm and Amy forcefully shoves Bobby and Dean out of the room, his baby girl’s cries muffled by the door when Amy closes it behind them. She heaves a sigh and crosses back over to Sam and presses one hand low on his belly. He’s been down this road before so when she taps his ankle, he obediently lifts his feet into the stirrups. He turns his head to the side, staring at the wall, his cheeks heating slightly as she examines him. It’s not as bad as it was in the beginning when he was pregnant with Lizzie, but it’s still pretty damn uncomfortable.  
  
Just as she’s finishing up, Dean bursts back in the room, his eyes wide and panicked. He crosses the room immediately and grabs Sam’s hand, squeezing almost hard enough to hurt. “Fuck,” he breathes. “You okay, Sammy?”  
  
Sam isn’t entirely sure how to answer that. His stomach is tight and he’s having short, hard contractions, one on top of another it feels like and he has the almost overwhelming urge to push, even though he knows he can’t yet. Thankfully, Amy saves him from having to try and figure it out.  
  
“Sorry, kiddo,” she frowns. “Seems like this little one’s in a great big hurry to get here. He’s not flipping over and frankly, I don’t want to put either of you through the stress of doin’ this naturally or of me trying to turn him.”  
  
Dean squeezes Sam’s fingers again and glances between him and Amy. “So what’s that mean?” Dean asks softly.  
  
“Honestly, at this point, the best bet is a C-section. And we’re gonna have’ta move fast on it.”  
  
The heart rate monitor above Sam’s head goes off again and the world tilts sideways. The last thing Sam hears is Dean’s panicked voice damn-near screaming his name.  
  
~~~~~~  
  
Sam wakes up slowly, the world around him fuzzy and he feels completely disoriented. The IV is still poking his arm and he’s still in the same room but it’s completely quiet now and dim, the only light behind him and turned down low. He looks to the side, smiling tiredly yet fondly at his brother who’s asleep in the chair next to the bed, Lizzie curled up against his chest, her face pressed against his neck. His eyes flutter closed again but the soft clearing of a throat has him reopening them and glancing down at the foot of the bed.  
  
Bobby gives him a soft smile which Sam returns. “How ya feelin’, kiddo?” he whispers.  
  
Sam inhales deeply and takes stock of his body. He’s a little sore but mostly, he’s just tired. “’m okay,” he whispers back. “Kinda tired and a bit sore.” He pauses, licking his lips, before asking, “What happened?”  
  
“Your blood pressure bottomed out and you started seizing. You’ve been out for more’n twenty-four hours.”  
  
Sam’s heart slams against his ribs and he instinctively slides a hand over his stomach, panicking when he feels the line of stitches and the distinct lack of his belly. Bobby grabs his ankle through the sheet and squeezes, making sure he’s got Sam’s attention. “She delivered him within minutes, son,” Bobby assured softly. “It was touch’n go for a while with the both’a you but you’re fine. And so’s he.”  
  
Sam swallows thickly, for a moment only able to focus on the fact that Dean was right again. Then he looks around the room, noticing the lack of his son. “Where?”  
  
“We’ll take ya to see him in a bit,” Dean’s rough voice answers and Sam’s eyes snap to his brother. Dean sits up, gently, expertly, shifting Liz so that she’s still cradled against him, still asleep. “Heya, Sammy,” he says softly, green eyes red-rimmed but filled with love and relief. “’bout time you got up, lazy ass.”  
  
Sam smiles and shifts toward his brother, wincing when the stitches pull along his lower abdomen. “Whoa, hey. Stay still,” Dean commands softly, standing up so that he can move closer to Sam instead of the other way around. He gently lays Lizzie down next to Sam and leans over the railing, pressing a soft, chaste kiss to Sam’s lips. “Scared the hell outta me,” Dean whispers, their foreheads pressed together.  
  
“Sorry,” Sam whispers back, his eyes sliding closed when Dean cups his cheek in one hand. “I wanna see him, Dean.”  
  
“Okay,” Dean breathes, complying without any hesitation, surprising the hell out of Sam.  
  
He disappears for a second into the hallway and returns with a wheelchair. Sam barely resists rolling his eyes but truthfully, he’s grateful. He’s not completely sure that he’d be able to walk right now even if he had to. Dean helps him out of bed and into the chair, leaving Bobby in the room with Lizzie. Dean pushes him down the hall and around the corner, through the door marking the NICU.  
  
Sam gasps and he reaches back, grabbing Dean’s wrist. “It’s okay,” Dean says softly, leaning down so that he can whisper in Sam’s ear. “He’s tiny, Sam. And it’s mostly just a precaution. Amy says he’s strong and stubborn, just like his daddy. She thinks they’ll be able to release him in a few weeks, maybe sooner.”  
  
Dean stops in front of a room surrounded by windows and Sam sees the incubator that they have his son in. There is an IV in one tiny arm and an oxygen line taped to his small little nose and a feeding tube between his cupid bow lips. Sam feels tears stinging his eyes and he sits forward in the chair, ignoring the pain in his stomach, wanting to be closer to their son.  
  
Dean pulls him back with a gentle hand then wheels him over to the door that Sam hadn’t even noticed and pushes him inside. There’s a nurse in the corner of the room and she smiles at Dean then Sam. “Finally got to bring him back this time?” she asks kindly.  
  
Sam glances back at Dean, his brow furrowing when he notices Dean blush and rub one hand across the back of his neck. “Uh, yeah,” Dean mutters. “He just woke up.”  
  
The nurse’s smile grows and she nods. “That’s great!” she says enthusiastically. She looks at Sam again and winks. “Your mate has been in here off and on for the last day, sitting with this handsome little devil, talking to him.”  
  
Sam looks back at Dean again, his head tilted to the side. Dean shrugs one shoulder and coughs awkwardly. “Well, you were sleepin’ and Bobby promised to call if you woke up and I…” he trails off, his gaze flickering over to their son. “I didn’t want him to be alone,” Dean confesses softly.  
  
The nurse quietly excuses herself but Sam barely notices. Dean pushes him closer to the incubator and Sam finally gets a good, up-close look at their little boy. Where Lizzie is practically Dean’s clone – has been since she was born – their son looks more like Sam, headful of dark hair and tip-tilted eyes and dimples in his chubby cheeks. Sam’s breath hitches and he brings up one hand, pressing the tips of his fingers against the plastic. There’s a piece of paper next to his hand and he traces over the words ‘Baby Boy Winchester’ before pressing his whole hand back against the side.  
  
“They wanted me to give ‘em his name right away,” Dean says softly, his hands a warm, familiar weight on Sam’s shoulders, gently kneading the muscle. “We… We hadn’t even talked about it so I told them no, not ‘til you woke up.”  
  
“Jonathan Robert,” Sam whispers, unable to drag his gaze away from the sleeping baby, the rise and fall of his tiny chest.  
  
Dean makes some kind of choked noise behind him and presses his lips to the top of Sam’s head. “Jonathan Robert,” he repeats, his tone strained with emotion. Dean’s arms gently slide around his shoulders and he squeezes softly. Sam leans back against Dean’s chest, their temples pressed together as they silently watch the newest member of their family. “I love you, Sammy,” Dean whispers, pressing a kiss to his cheek.  
  
“Love you, too, De,” Sam whispers back, smiling through the tears he didn’t even realize were falling when baby John yawns, his face scrunching up slightly before smoothing back out. 

**Author's Note:**

> You didn't miss anything, skipping the birth of their first child was intentional.


End file.
